mothers that month, neither of them whole.
In the mornings, I drove home down Route 9 to make pancakes and answer Theo’s questions.
“When is Kora coming home?”
He asked every day with the patience of a child who still believes adults know everything.
“Is she coming home for my birthday? Can she still be my partner for the science fair?”
I gave him the truth in pieces small enough to swallow.
I hated doing it.
Wyatt didn’t ask questions.
He became clingy instead, wrapping himself around my leg every
